


Dark Rose

by one_starry_night



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Betty doesn't know that what she needs is for Jughead to kiss her senseless, Comfort, F/M, Forbidden Love, Grieving, Lovemaking as opposed to fucking, Mild Sexual Content, Poor Jughead, Sadness, Sexual Tension, This isn't exactly a slow burn, Young Love, gut wrenching angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-15 02:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_starry_night/pseuds/one_starry_night
Summary: Summary: When her entire family passes away suddenly, Lady Elizabeth Cooper is forced to move to her Uncle's Estate. There she reconnects with Forsythe Pendleton Jones, whom she knew as a young child. Soon enough, she finds solace in the young man. But can they ever be anything more than mere acquaintances?Author's Note: In the spirit of Gothic literature, I gave this fic a very Flowers in the Attic-esque title.Warning: This fic will feature sexist language. It is supposed to take place roughly 120+ years ago when the sad reality of the day was that women were treated as property. I did some cursory research into Victorian marriage and wedding customs, which also reflected the sexism of the day. I'm also familiar with Property Law; it was not uncommon for women to be treated as chattel during this time. Please be aware of this as you read.Please comment. It means a lot. Thanks.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

> “Perhaps lovers aren't supposed to look down at the ground. That kind of story is told in symbols--and earth represents reality, and reality represents frustrations, chance illnesses, death, murder, and all kinds of other tragedies. Lovers are meant to look up at the sky, for up there no beautiful illusions can be trampled upon.”   
>  ―  [V.C. Andrews](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1353301.V_C_Andrews) ,  _[Flowers in the Attic](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3311885) _

 

Elizabeth stood up solemnly. She didn’t want the crowd in black surrounding the coffin to see her cry. Instead, she found a focal point on the coffin that she would focus on – the tiny golden fleur-de-lis decorating its edges. She was already shaking, but in case she felt the sudden urge to release, instead, she’d look at the floral motifs and recite an old hymnal beneath her breath. Keeping that in mind, she took a few steps forward before crouching to pick up a handful of dirt. She stood up slowly, feeling her feet shaking beneath her boots. She quickly looked for the flowers and began to hum amazing grace under her breath, the sound masked only by the black veil covering her eyes and nose.

 

“Go on, Elizabeth,” the clergymen urged her gently with his words, “Say your piece, dear.”

 

Elizabeth swallowed, now looking at the coffin, completely forgetting about the flowers as she choked, “Goodbye mother, the angels fly thee home.” She quickly dropped the handful of dirt over the top of the wooden box that housed her mother’s lifeless body. But for Betty, her mother had died long before she had been put in the coffin. The disease had overtaken her mother and sister first, with her own father succumbing to the same illness within the span of days. Despite the short time span of the illness, her mother managed to hang on for a few extra days. And now, save for her Uncle behind her, Elizabeth was burying the last member of her natural family.

 

Elizabeth stepped back from the coffin. As two strong men lowered it into the ground, a gentle melody played behind them. Betty sighed and stepped away from the coffin, feeling her Uncle’s hand on her shoulder.

 

“Elizabeth.”

 

Betty turned around, grateful that the black veil concealed the tears that began to fall from her green eyes as she choked out, “Yes, Uncle?”

 

“Are you ready, dear?”

 

“Quite.”

 

But Betty wasn’t ready to move into her Uncle’s estate. Not when she’d just lost everything. Unfortunately for her, she had little say in the matter.

 

“Come on Betty, the carriage will meet us up front.”

 

“I see your using mother’s nickname for me, Uncle Cooper.”

 

“Yes,” he urged gently, “She said you prefer it.”

 

“Oh, I do.”

 

“Ah, there’s the carriage now. _Here_.” Betty’s uncle grabbed her hand and helped her up the steps so she could step into the carriage with ease as he followed close behind her. Betty was grateful that he didn’t say much more to her for the duration of the ride. It gave her ample time to view the surrounding countryside next to her as she cried, the sound of which was muffled by the loud wheels hitting the pavement beneath the carriage.

 

Nearly an hour later, the carriage came to an abrupt halt as it pulled up to the antiquated estate. It still looked exactly as she remembered it, only the dark moss had nearly grown up the second story, trailing along the windows beneath it. In contrast, the bushes lining the exterior were perfectly trimmed with verdant roses growing all around them. The sky looked overcast as Betty stepped out of the carriage. Soon, a servant walked leisurely down the front steps and stopped in front of the carriage awaiting further instructions from Lord Cooper.

 

“Tom,” He motioned at the luggage above the carriage, “Will you please take my nieces luggage to her room and sit it beside her bed.”

 

“Certainly, sir. How are you, Lady Elizabeth? The last time you were here, why you couldn’t have been more than four feet tall.”

 

“You remembered. I’m alright, Tom.”

 

Tom nodded and smiled politely.

 

“Uncle, where will I be staying?”

 

“In the west wing. I’ll have Forsythe show you your room later. You remember Forsythe, don’t you?”

 

“You mean, _Jughead_?” Betty giggled, “Yes, but I haven’t seen him since we were children. And honestly uncle, he owes me. The last time I was here, he got me into serious trouble with the maids. He threw mud all over my new dress. And yet, he managed to only muddy up his bloomers.”

 

Lord Cooper raised one eyebrow in amusement as he said, “Well, Betty, I think you’ll find that Forsythe has grown up quite a bit since then.”

 

“I’ll be the judge of that, uncle – _wait_ , but does he still wear that terrible hat?!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I doubt he’s grown up in the slightest,” Betty said as she turned on her heels and walked up the front steps. As she stepped inside she smiled at the housekeeper, whom she wasn’t familiar with.

 

“Let me take your coat, miss.”

 

“Elizabeth. But you can call me _Betty_.”

 

“Thanks Betty.”

 

“And what is your name?”

 

“It’s Siobhan.”

 

“Thank you, Siobhan.”

 

Lord Cooper stepped inside as the maid shut the door behind them and said, “Well, Betty, I’ll let you get settled in. Dinner is served at seven just beyond the foyer there.”

 

“What shall I do in the meantime, Uncle?”

 

“Feel free to stroll about, or if you’d like you could go and see your room now, see to it that it’s to your liking.”

 

“I’d like to see my room if I may.” In truth, Betty needed some space to cry privately. Just not in front of her uncle or his genteel servants.

 

“Very well, right this way. I’m sure Forsythe is in the library again. Follow me.”

 

Betty trailed behind her uncle, trying to focus on something other than her grief. What she did not know though, was that she’d soon have the distraction she craved so badly.

 

“Ah, there he is.”

 

Betty looked ahead at a large plush seat where a young man was sitting from a far-off distance. Betty couldn’t quite see him until they stepped closer.

 

“Well don’t stay seated, Jughead. Lady Elizabeth is here.”

 

Jughead shot up at once and threw the book into the chair behind him. It was only then, when he stood up fully that Betty could see the changes that her uncle referencing earlier. Jughead’s shoulders had broadened tremendously. He was about six feet tall with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. They were the same somehow, yet different from what she remembered. He was a man now, nowhere near the little boy she recalled from long ago.

 

“Sorry, sir.” When Jughead looked up, he seemed a little taken aback as his eyes glanced at Betty. He immediately averted his gaze a little.

 

“Well don’t just stand there, Forsythe. You remember Elizabeth, don’t you?”

 

“Yes sir. Hi Elizabeth.”

 

“Hi Jughead.”

 

Jughead winced at the nickname, but managed a smile. Betty was suddenly very curious about the man standing in front of her.

 

“Forsythe, why don’t you show Betty to her room. It will allow her some time to freshen up before dinner.

 

“As you wish, sir.”

 

“Very well, then. I’ll be off.”

 

Once her Uncle left the vicinity of the library, Jughead cleared his throat, “Right this way, Lady Elizabeth.”

 

Betty noticed that he wasn’t looking her directly in the eye, so she stopped him by gently grabbing his arm.

 

“Jughead,” Betty said, “You can call me Betty. After all, I did just use your old nickname.”

 

“I know, but it wouldn’t be proper now for me to say that to you.”

 

“Well, why not?”

 

Jughead paused and simply said, “We’ll talk another time.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Betty wondered what on earth this was about. He seemed far more somber than she remembered.

 

“Your room is just at the end of the hall down here. My room is across the hall from yours if you ever need anything.”

 

“ _Need_ anything? Jug, what on earth do you mean?”

 

“I work for your uncle now, Betty.”

 

Betty noticed Jughead’s jaw tighten as he said those words to her, so she didn’t press him for further details.

 

He walked ahead of her and opened the door, revealing a well-kept floral bedroom. How perfectly Victorian, Betty thought.

 

“I’ll be in the library if you want to join me.”

 

“Thank you, Jughead.”

 

“You’re welcome. Bye Betty.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Betty watched as Jughead turned and closed the door behind her.

 

Jughead loitered in the hallway for a few minutes. He wished he was still titled. But with his parents deceased and his father disgraced, alas he’d never be allowed to be with someone like Elizabeth Cooper who had grown up to be as beautiful as her uncle said she would be. He sighed and was about to walk to the library when he heard cries emanating from Betty’s room. As he paused, the cries gave way to ugly sobs. Jughead felt his gut clench. It reminded him of when Betty’s uncle had found him crying over his own father’s lifeless body – except, Jughead remembered, her uncle had held him as he cried for nearly an hour, not saying anything, just holding him. For a moment, Jughead wondered if he should do the same thing. But he decided against it, worried about how it might look since he was no longer titled like Betty.

 

Later, when Jughead was reading in the library, he looked outside towards the lake. Somehow, in the last hour, Betty had made her way down the stairs in the back of her room that led to the outside of the estate. He saw Betty sitting beneath the old oak tree. She looked like she was shaking. It was only then he realized that Betty was sobbing beneath the tree. Concerned, he closed his book and walked quietly into her uncle’s study where he found Lord Cooper bent over an article with a magnifying glass. He rapped gently on the door.

 

“Sir.”

 

“Yes, Forsythe.”

 

“It’s Betty, sir. She’s under the old oak tree outside and well I’m concerned, sir. She seems upset.”

 

“Forsythe, she’s just lost everyone she loves, including my dear sister. Of course, she’s upset.”

 

“Yes, sir, but it’s just that…”

 

“Go on. Out with it, Forsythe.”

 

“Sir, I think she needs to be comforted right now,” he was of course referencing what Lord Cooper had done for him, not that he’d ever say such a thing.

 

“Forsythe,” Lord Cooper put his glasses down, “Perhaps I agree with you, certainly, but I am far too busy today to worry about that.”

 

“Sir, I…”

 

“Thank you for telling me Forsythe, I appreciate it. I will see to it that Elizabeth is taken care of.”

 

“Yes sir.” And with that Jughead walked out of Lord Cooper’s study. What Jughead did not know, though, was that Lord Cooper watched him as he stepped outside the estate and began to walk towards the oak tree. In truth, Lord Cooper wasn’t busy at all. He smiled warmly as he watched Jughead walk purposefully towards his niece.

 

 

 

 

 

Jughead sighed as he walked down the flight of steps, passing the rose bushes to his right. Poor Elizabeth, he thought. He remembered how horrible it had been when his mom passed, dying in agony like that. There had been so much blood beneath her and his sister, dear Forsythia, never even saw the light of day. But his father’s passing had very nearly done him in and he was almost certain that she was feeling the same way. In fact, he knew she was which is why he told himself what he was doing was alright. Under these circumstances, it was permissible. No one could fault him for having a heart he told himself as he took a step towards Betty. As he got closer to Betty, he could hear her cries grow louder, though he could tell she was trying to be quiet. He also paused for a minute, worried that he would startle her as he very nearly stood beside her.

 

“ _Betty_.”

 

Betty looked up to see him standing beside the tree, her eyes widened as he crouched down beside her.

 

“Betty,” Jughead said quietly, taking great care not to touch her, “Are you alright?”

 

Betty shook her head and without thinking, Jughead opened her arms to her. She crawled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing as Jughead held her there, placing his hand behind her head.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay, he whispered as he planted a kiss against the top of her head, “ _I’m here_.”

After several minutes, Jughead pulled Betty over to the oak tree so that he could rest his back against it for support as he held her while she cried against him. They stayed like that for a long while, with neither saying anything to one another as Jughead held Betty while she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

 

Meanwhile, Lord Cooper watched the exchange between the pair from the window of his office and smiled approvingly as he adjusted his glasses. Yes, he thought, Forsythe would do just fine for his niece.

 

 

 

 

 

Betty and Jughead were resting by the lake, with Jughead watching the stillness of the water occasionally disturbed by whatever firefly dared dip its tiny legs against the wet blueness beneath them. After a little while, Betty had stopped crying. Instead, she had rested her head beneath Jughead’s chin as he cradled her there. It had felt nice to not be alone as she cried, but she knew the excuses she had for her recent grief would end soon and they wouldn’t be allowed to be like this anymore. Touching, and so very close. Betty was grateful that Jughead didn’t say anything as he held her or attempt to ask her questions. She knew that she would only embarrass herself and possibly begin to cry again.

 

“Betty?”

 

Jughead looked down at her, “It’s getting dark. We should go inside. Your Uncle is expecting you at dinner.”

 

Betty nodded then pulled herself away from him unwillingly. Already missing his arms around her, she straightened up and pretended to be okay.

 

“I should freshen up before dinner.”

 

Jughead stood up and wiped a few pieces of grass from his trousers and dusted his sweater lightly.

 

Betty held out her hand, “Will you take me to my room, Jughead? I don’t want to be alone when I walk back, especially not after dark.”

 

“Alright,” Jughead took her hand tentatively. Neither said anything as they made their way back to the front steps of the estate. Betty let go of his hand as he held the oak doors open for her, stepping ahead of him.

 

Betty waited for him to shut the door and then followed him down the hallway towards her room. When they got to her door, Betty paused and looked up at Jughead, seeing an unruly black curl covering a single eye. Without thinking, and in truth it wasn’t proper for a young lady of her stature to be touching a man anyways, not when they weren’t betrothed, Betty reached up and tucked the stay hair back into place. Then, she glided her fingertips across his jawline. Jughead stilled, not wanting to do anything further to get either of them in trouble.

 

“Thanks for earlier, Jug.”

 

“I should go,” Jughead cleared his throat and stepped back from her.

 

“Alright, wait Jug.”

 

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

 

“Can you tell my uncle that I won’t be at dinner tonight? I’m sorry, but I’m not hungry.”

 

“You should really eat something, Betty. Proper nourishment will help you in your grief.”

 

Still reeling from the deaths of her family members, Betty blurted out, “And what do you know of grief Jughead” but then she stopped herself, “I’m sorry, Jughead, that was so unbelievable rude of me. Betty reached out and squeezed his hand.”

 

“I am well acquainted with grief Elizabeth, which is why I’m encouraging you to eat. It will help you sleep tonight. Sleep is the gentlest comfort your body needs right now.”

 

“Oh,” Betty didn’t want to pry, but quickly wondered what he meant. What had happened to the pleasant boy she met years ago that flung mud all over their Sunday blues? He didn’t smile as much now, of that much she was certain.

 

“I’ll let Lord Cooper know. Bye, Elizabeth.”

 

Jughead walked off without another word. She felt bad for what she had said to him, she would apologize again later. Especially after he had been kind enough to hold her as she cried earlier. She didn’t know much about this new Jughead, but from what she’d surmised he was very sweet. That much she could tell.

 

 

 

 

 

Jughead walked for several minutes and turned down the marble hallway to go back to Lord Cooper’s study. Without knocking, he made his presence known as he stepped inside once again quietly.

 

“Ah, Forsythe. Just in time for dinner.”

 

“Sir,” Jughead cleared his throat, “Elizabeth asked me to let you know that she won’t be joining us for dinner.”

 

“I see,” Lord Cooper spread his hands out against the wooden desk, “Well, is she alright?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Jughead, I saw that you were with her earlier. What did she say?”

 

Jughead’s face flushed, “Sir, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that she was sobbing and you said you were busy, so I took the liberty to…I’m sorry, sir. Believe me, I meant no harm to her.”

 

Lord Cooper stood up from his desk and turned to face the window, “It’s just as well Forsythe. I’m not angry.”

 

“You’re not, sir?”

 

“No, but,” Lord Cooper turned around, “Take great care with Betty, Forsythe. She’ll have to be married off eventually and I wouldn’t want there to be a question about her reputation if you catch my drift.”

 

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

 

“Elizabeth is very beautiful, don’t you think?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Jughead looked down and ran his hands over the hat on his head.

 

“Yes, well she takes after my dear sister in that regard. Anyways, Forsythe, I simply wouldn’t want there to be a question about Elizabeth’s reputation. You understand.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“Well, now that we are in agreement, why don’t you take Betty a plate of food and leave it for her in her room. You can eat with her if you like.”

“But sir, I thought you said…”

 

“She’s grieving Jughead. Even as a daft old man I’ll admit as much. The death of her entire family has been quite the shock to her sensitive system. Of that much you can be sure. But, because she is a woman, it probably hurts worse.”

 

“Yes sir. Very good, sir.”

 

“Excellent, I’ll see you later Forsythe.”

 

 

 

 

 

Half an hour later, Betty heard a knock against her door. “Come in,” She said as she sat up against her bed.

 

“Betty?”

 

“Hi, Jughead. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Jughead smiled and sat a tray down on her desk, “Your uncle,” Jughead stammered, “He said to bring your dinner to you and that, well, I can sit with you if you like.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“If you don’t want me with you, I can go. My room is quite close, really.”

 

“No,” Betty said in earnest, “Please stay.”

 

Betty got up from her bed and walked over to her desk, “Thanks for bringing this, Jug.” She grabbed a bowl and planted herself into a large leather chair in the corner.

 

Jughead grabbed a bowl and sat at her desk.

 

“I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier, Jug. Truly I am. I’m just not feeling like myself today.”

 

“Don’t apologize Elizabeth. It’s okay, _really_. I understand.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes,” Jughead said as he sipped his stew quietly.

 

When Betty had finished her supper, Jughead turned back to her, “I’ll take your plate to the kitchen, Elizabeth.”

 

“Jug, call me Betty _please_.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Can I ask you something? Jug, why are you working for my Uncle?” I was told you were at an all-boys boarding school a few years ago, West Point bound just like your father.”

 

Jughead turned his back to her and placed her bowl over his own and sighed, “Because,” Jughead steadied himself against her desk, still not facing her as he said, “My parents are dead Betty. My father, he…he was discharged from West Point. He started drinking when my mother died in childbirth. Then he succumbed to his own demons and died from the drink. We lost everything. Your uncle took me in presumably because of how close he and father were.”

 

“Oh god,” Betty choked as she stood up to grab his arm, “Jug, I’m so sorry. And what I said earlier, please forgive me. I had no right. Especially after you were such a kindness to me in my moment of need.”

 

Jughead turned around slowly and Betty could see that he was fighting back tears.

 

“It’s alright. But you asked me what I knew of grief earlier and well, I’ve felt it, just like you are feeling it at this very moment.” And with that, Jughead turned and grabbed the tray and slipped away from her room quietly.

 

Betty paused. Jughead’s startling revelation certainly brought things into perspective for her.

 

 

 

 

 

Later that night, Betty washed up and splashed water over her face. She blotted the water off her nose and ran a comb through her hair. She attempted to lie down, but rest never came. Instead a steady stream of tears began to run down her cheeks. After an hour, she was tired of crying, so she turned and faced the side wall. When Betty was about to fall asleep, she heard gentle footsteps beneath her door.

 

“Betty?”

 

“It’s alright, Jug. You can come in.”

 

“I don’t mean to pry Betty, really, but I could hear you crying all the way from my room and well, he fumbled with his hat, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

 

Quite unexpectedly a wellspring of tears covered Betty’s eyes, she didn’t know why she felt like this, comfortable crying around Jughead, but she did.

 

“I’m not, Betty sobbed, “Oh Jug, I feel so alone here.” As Betty began to sob, Jughead rushed over to her side of the bed. Betty stretched out her arms and wrapped them around his torso, crying against his stomach, “Stay, please Jughead, will you stay with me?”

 

“Betty,” Jughead looked down at her, her eyes lidded with moisture and red around the rim, “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

 

“Please,” Betty began to cry again.

 

“Alright. Do you want me to sit on your couch and wait for you to fall asleep?”

 

“No. Can’t you just be here next to me?”

 

“You mean, sleep here with you in your bed?”

 

“Yes,” Betty choked.

 

But against his better judgment, Jughead complied and slid beneath her comforter and pulled Betty onto him. Her head rested against his chest as she sobbed. It didn’t take long before Betty fell asleep and Jughead followed her into a dream.

 

When Jughead awoke the next morning, he was startled to find Lady Elizabeth Cooper’s body draped onto his. Instead of untangling her limbs from his though (and if he was being honest with himself, that would be the proper thing to do under the circumstances). Instead though, Jughead grinned and pulled her closer and went straight back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

“Lord Cooper,” Tom cleared his throat, “Sir, I’m sorry to bother you but...”

 

“Well, Tom?”

 

“Sir, its master Forsythe. He wasn’t in his room last night.”

 

“Ah. And where do you think he is, Tom?”

 

“It’s not really my place to say sir.”

 

“It’s alright, Tom. Out with it.”

 

“Well, sir,” Tom scratched his head, “I think he might be in Lady Elizabeth’s room. Mind you, I’m not accusing them of any impropriety sir.”

 

“No, of course not. Listen tom, I don’t want them disturbed. Even if Forsythe is in Elizabeth’s room from now on, don’t wake them. Understood?”

 

“Very good sir.”

 

“Oh, and Tom?”

 

“Yes sir?”

 

“See to it that one of the maids puts some breakfast on Elizabeth’s desk for them, will you?”

 

“Yes sir, I’ll do it now.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As Tom turned his back and headed out of the room, Lord Cooper smiled warmly and went back to reading the paper.

 

 

 

 

 

When Betty woke up she straightaway noticed a pair of hands curled securely around her waist. She shifted immediately and turned around to look at Jughead, who was fast asleep against her pillow. She giggled because of how messy his hair was. It reminded her of how it used to look when they were children, the black unruly waves spilled down the front of his forehead. While he was still sleeping, Betty was curious to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. She moved her hand tentatively towards his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. When he didn’t wake up right away, her hands moved past his cheeks and her thumb just barely brushed over his lips.

 

“Betty.” Jughead blinked his eyes open, “Are you okay?”

 

Betty pulled her hand away quickly and tucked it behind her nightgown, “Yes, I’m fine.”

 

“I should go,” Jughead began to sit up and slide towards the edge of the bed.

 

“Wait,” Betty looked at her desk, “It looks like one of the maids left me breakfast. Will you stay with me Jug? We can share it. Share it with me, please.”

 

Jughead ran a hand through his hair as a somber expression appeared on his face, “The maids were already here. Betty, I hope word doesn’t get back to your uncle.”

 

“It won’t,” Betty grabbed his hand, “Please stay, Jug.”

 

Jughead let out an exasperated sigh, “Alright, but I have to leave afterwards to tend to work here.”

 

“What exactly are you doing today, Jug?”

 

“Gardening.”

 

“Oh,” Betty giggled.

 

“I don’t mind it. The groundskeeper left a few years ago and I just help your uncle wherever he needs me. And today, that need is trimming the rose bushes.”

 

“Can I come watch you later?”

 

“If you like.”

…

Later that morning, Jughead walked past Lord Cooper’s study to head out into the garden when he heard a voice echo from the study.

 

“Forsythe, a word please.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Come inside, take a seat next to my desk there.”

 

Jughead wondered if this was about sleeping in Betty’s room. He was prepared for a confrontation, but was surprised by what Lord Cooper asked him next.

 

Lord Cooper adjusted his glasses and splayed his hands against the desk, “Forsythe, Lady Elizabeth doesn’t know this, but her parents last will and testament indicates that they’d like her to be married within a year. I suppose that my little sister didn’t want her living out the rest of her days with a persnickety old man.” Then, Lord Cooper chuckled.

 

Jughead’s heart sank as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Sir, that’s all good and well, but how does that have anything to do with me?”

 

“Well, Forsythe, despite your unfortunate circumstances you are a bright young man and I value your opinion.”

 

“My opinion?”

 

“Yes, Forsythe. Let me ask you something, as I look for suitors for the Lady Elizabeth, what do you think she would like?”

 

“I have no idea sir,” Jughead cleared his throat, still unsure of why they were even having this conversation.”

 

“Try,” Lord Cooper implored.

 

“Well, sir, if I were to guess, I’d say that Elizabeth needed someone strong and kind.”

 

“That’s not bad, Forsythe. Now you see why I asked you. Go on then. What else?”

 

“And sir, I would say that whomever you choose should be closer in age to her. Again, it’s not my place but because you asked me, she should probably have a younger suitor.”

 

“Very good, Forsythe. Well, I had better get back to my work and I’ll leave you to tend to yours.”

 

“Very good sir.”

 

As soon as Forsythe left the vicinity of his office, Lord Cooper chuckled to himself, “Strong and kind. Indeed, Forsythe. Much like yourself.”

 

 

 

 

 

Later that afternoon, Betty walked down towards the garden where Jughead was trimming a rose bush. She paused in front of him before saying his name, “Jughead?”

 

Jughead turned around and greeted her, but continued working, “Hi, Betty.”

 

“Are you really going to be trimming these bushes all day, Jug?”

 

“Well, someone’s got to.”

 

“Can I help?”

 

“Betty, as much as I’d like that I don’t think it would be proper for a girl of your station to be trimming rush bushes all day long.”

 

“I don’t care,” Betty said as she rolled her sleeves up, “Show me how to do this. I want to learn, really. And I could use the distraction.”

 

“Alright,” Jughead smiled at her persistence, “You see these shears here, lightly trim the edges like this,” Jughead demonstrated with his shears, “Then when you’re done, you can clip the roses from the bush, there are already too many on this side.”

 

Betty smiled and began trimming the bushes. Jughead looked over at her side profile and grinned. A few minutes later, Betty put the shears down and wrapped her hand around one of the roses. Once she felt tiny pricks break her skin, however, she cried aloud, “Ouch.”

 

“Betty!” Jughead rushed over to her, grabbing her hand and cradling it against his palm, “Betty, you’re not supposed to grab the rose that way, that’s a sure way to get pricked. Blood began seeping out of the holes where the thorns had pierced her skin, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

Jughead led her over to a brown building that resembled a shed, “Where are we going, Jug?”

 

“It’s the groundkeepers old house. I think he stayed out here so that he could keep an eye on the back of the estate. There’s a water pump inside, come on.”

 

Still holding Betty’s hand, Jughead slid the brown door aside to reveal a small room with a bed in the corner and a chair at the end of the room. There was an empty bookshelf next to the small stove at the opposite end of the room, “I like to read in here sometimes when I want to be alone.”

 

“Does anyone ever come in here?”

 

“Not really. They don’t have any reason to.”

 

“Oh, Betty said quietly as Jughead led her over to a white basin. There was a tube sticking out of the wall and a wooden handle beneath it, “Here, Betty, put your hand underneath here.” Jughead grabbed the handle and a steady stream of water began to pour from the spout, Jughead cradled her hand in his and rinsed the blood off. Then, he pulled the lever up to stop the flow of water and dried her hand with a beige towel next to the basin.

 

“Better?” Jughead looked at her questioningly.

 

“No, it still stings.”

 

“We’ll have to get some gauze from my room then.”

 

Betty looked up at him expectantly. Not sure how to proceed, considering that he and Betty were alone in the groundkeeper’s tiny house, Jughead looked at Betty, clasped her hands together and then brought them up to his lips. Betty gasped at the contact.

 

“Better now?” Jughead said as he looked at her.

 

Betty nodded and Jughead let her hands down, “I should get back to work.”

 

“I’ll come with you.”

 

“You know I’d like that, but maybe you should just watch for the remainder.”

 

“Why,” Betty frowned, “Because I’m a woman?”

 

“Because, Lady Elizabeth, you’ll injure yourself and your Uncle will hold me responsible.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

“Come on, Betty.” Jughead grabbed her hand and slid the door open so that Betty could exit before he did.

 

“Fine,” Betty conceded, I’ll watch for now. But one day I will learn how to properly cut a rosebush, Forsythe.”

 

“We shall see,” Jughead grinned as he picked up a pair of shears.

 

 

 

 

 

Later that night, Betty was thinking about the way Jughead had kissed her hands. It made her feel warm and sad all at once. She remembered the promise that her mother had made her when she was still alive.

 

_"Betty, I talked it over with your father and he said that you can marry for love as long as whomever you marry is titled and can afford to take care of you.”_

 

_"Really, mother?”_

_“Really.”_

_Betty wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. As her mother untangled her daughter’s limbs, she placed Betty’s hands into her own, “Now Elizabeth, be grateful for this. You know that most women in your position aren’t allowed to do such a thing.”_

_“Yes mother, I know.”_

_“But your father has quite a soft spot for you,” Lady Cooper kissed her forehead, “So it was a little easier to convince him.”_

_“Father does love me, doesn’t he?” Betty giggled_

_“We both do, very much so.”_

_“Mother?”_

_“Yes, dear?”_

_“Am I your favorite?”_

_“Both of my daughters are my favorite, now good night, Elizabeth. You need to get your beauty rest.”_

Tears stung Betty’s eyes as she rolled over in her bed. That would never happen now, she thought, not with Lord Cooper as her guardian.

 

Suddenly, Betty heard her door creak open. Startled, she sat up from her bed.

 

“Oh," Jughead said, “I’m sorry, Betty. I thought you would have been asleep by now.”

 

Betty looked down at Jughead’s hands and noticed a vase of freshly cut red roses.

 

“Where did you get those?” Betty smiled above her covers.

 

“From earlier,” Jughead averted his gaze, “These are the leftover roses from the bushes. I was just going to leave them here for you while you were sleeping. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

 

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Betty whispered, “ _Thank you_.”

 

“I’m going back to bed now. Goodnight Betty.” Jughead turned to leave through the door.

 

“Wait, Jug?”

 

He turned around and their eyes met again.

 

“Can’t you stay?”

 

“No, I really shouldn’t Betty.”

 

“Please?”

 

“I can’t. Lord Cooper would be angry if he found out. Imagine how it looks.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Goodnight, Betty.”

 

“Night, Jug.”

 

When Jughead shut the door, Betty leap up from the bed and immediately went over to smell the roses, taking great care to not prick herself on the thorns this time. She looked at how carefully they had been cut and arranged against the vase, ‘So sweet,’ Betty murmured. And for the first time since her parent’s death, she smiled as her heart swelled beneath her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

A week passed and Betty hadn’t seen much of Jughead, presumably because he had been working longer hours. She was also bored with reading alone in her room. Once, she attempted to find Jughead in the library, but he had already vacated his spot by the window, leaving a trail of books and papers in his wake.

 

Betty decided to pop into her Uncle’s study. When she did, her uncle adjusted his glasses and smiled, “Ah, Elizabeth, come in dear.”

 

“Hi Uncle.”

 

“I haven’t seen neither head nor tail of you since you moved here. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

 

“Oh, nothing really, it’s just…”

 

“Do you want to go into town, Elizabeth? There’s a dress shop that my wife used to frequent. I think you’d rather like it.”

 

“No no, I’m fine. Thank you though.”

 

“Well is something the matter?”

 

“Not at all, I was just looking for Jughead, Uncle. Have you seen him?”

 

“Ah, yes,” Lord Cooper chuckled, “Young Forsythe. He’s in the Egyptian room.”

 

“You mean that dark room at the edge of your house that no one’s allowed in?”

 

“That’d be the one. Now if you’ll excuse me, dear. I have to finish up this file.”

 

“Very good. Thanks Uncle.” Betty stood up to leave.

 

“Oh, Betty.”

 

“Yes Uncle?”

 

“Please let me _or_ Forsythe know if you need anything, will you?”

 

“I will.”

 

 

 

 

 

Betty took a long walk down a carpeted corridor before she happened upon a large onyx statue of a cat with the body of a man.

 

“Heathens,” Betty shuddered and murmured under her breath. She walked a few more paces before she came to an entrance with no doors, as she peered inside she saw what looked like miles and miles of antiques, mostly Egyptian; however, some looked faintly Greek or middle eastern.

 

“Jughead,” Betty called once.

 

“Down here, Betty.”

 

Betty smiled as she saw his back in the distance, he was looking down at something.

 

“There you are, Jug, I haven’t seen you in almost a week now. When Betty took a step closer she realized what Jughead was looking at – the body of a small mummy. She screamed immediately. Her arms flailed about before Jughead caught her and pulled her into him.

 

“Careful there, Betty. If you had tripped, you would have fallen into the arms of the corpse here instead of mine.”

 

Betty panted, “Why on earth is this _thing_ here?”

 

“It was just shipped in from Cairo, Betty. Isn’t it fascinating?”

 

“Grotesque is more like it.”

 

Betty realized she was pressed completely against Jughead, her arms flown around his waist in her momentary fit of panic. She slowly pulled away from him and looked at the body again.

 

“Is that a woman,” Betty inquired?

 

“What gave it away, the tiny stature or the full hips and the mounds above them?” Jughead smirked.

 

Betty smacked him playfully, “Where have you been Jug? I’ve been desperately lonely.”

 

“Working,” Jughead lied. _And_ avoiding you so that I don’t do anything stupid, he thought.

 

“Well, anyways, Betty clasped her hands together, “It’s a nice day out and I was thinking that you and I could share a picnic and go for a walk later and you can tell me all about this, whatever it is.”

 

“The mummy?”

 

“The corpse – and yes.”

 

“Lady Elizabeth,” Jughead took a step towards her, “Do you even know how to cook?”

 

“Well, not exactly, but…”

 

“So, you’re going to have a servant fix our picnic, is that the idea then?”

 

“Yes?” Betty grinned and bit her upper lip, noticing that Jughead’s eyes darted to her lips almost immediately.

 

“Well, I can’t say no to a meal. Even if you aren’t actually the one to make it.”

 

“So, it’s settled then. I’ll meet you by lake in an hour.”

 

“Alright,” Jughead shuffled his feet.

 

“Bye Forsythe,” Betty leaned in to kiss his cheek and bounced off.

 

“Bye Elizabeth,” Jughead murmured as he placed his hand to his cheek. He had to find another way to avoid her before he did something to get himself kicked out of the house, something foolish like kissing her when she could never be his.

 

 

 

 

 

Betty pulled the picnic basket along and found a cozy spot near the old oak tree. Satisfied with the area, she gently lowered the blanket onto the ground and spread it out, taking great care to get rid of the wrinkles. Then she placed the picnic basket next her and waited. She crossed her legs as she felt a gentle breeze billow beside by her legs and against the water up ahead.

“Betty.”

 

“You came,” Betty beamed, “Here, sit.” Betty motioned for him to come forward.

 

“So, I didn’t make the lunch. Don’t make fun of me, but they assured me it would be delicious.”

 

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Jughead smirked, “They’ve been cooking for years.”

 

After lunch, Jughead sat quietly against the tree as Betty watched the water.

 

“Jug,” Betty turned to him, “What were you doing in the Egyptian room earlier?”

 

“Just making some observations for your uncle. He wants me to write a report for him.”

 

“Oh,” Betty said quietly.

 

“Is something the matter, Betty?”

 

Betty started to cry.

 

“Hey, come here.” Jughead pulled Betty into him again so she could lay against his chest.

 

“It’s just, Betty said in between sobs, sometimes I feel great, but then I remember it all over again. I think of my parents and how my family is gone. My emotions keep changing. I feel like there’s a veritable storm swelling inside my chest, Jug.”

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jughead brushed her hair gently.

 

“It is?” Betty looked up at him.

 

“Yes, you might feel this way for a little while.”

 

“How long?”

 

Jughead sighed as Betty looked at him, “A while, but I promise it will stop hurting in time.”

 

“I hope your right,” Betty said as she rested her chest against his.

 

A little later, rain droplets began to fall beneath the tree.

 

“Jug,” Betty sat up, I think it’s going to rain.”

 

“Oh no. And here we were having a lazy afternoon.”

 

“We?” Betty whispered.

 

Jughead cleared his throat and sat up, “We should probably go inside _before_ …”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Jughead said as he began packing up the picnic basket. Soon, the rain began pelting them before it came down in a steady stream.

 

“Oh no, Jug,” We’re going to get soaked.

 

“No, we aren’t. Quick, follow me!” Jughead grabbed the basked and then grabbed Betty’s hand as they ran across the lawn towards the old brown house. Jughead let go of Betty’s hand and slid the door open so that she could go inside first.

 

Once inside, Betty shuddered as Jughead sat the picnic basket down.

 

“Wow, it’s really coming down outside. I can’t even see the estate from here.”

 

“We might be stuck here for a while unless you want to make a run for the house.”

 

“I would, but I don’t think my silk dress would agree with the weather.”

 

Jughead smirked.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“It’s freezing in here.”

 

Betty walked over to the bed and sat on top of the old quilt, “Do you have anything for us to do while we wait in here?”

 

“Sadly, no. Unless,” Jughead smiled, “You want me to read you some of my Egyptian report. I put my notes in my pocket here. I just hope they aren’t soaked through. The ink might have bled onto the pages.”

 

Betty sighed as Jughead sat down on the bed next to her.

 

“I wish my parents were here.” Betty sighed, “Do you ever miss your parents Jug?”

 

“All the time,” Jughead said quietly.

 

Betty stared at the floor, “So, Jug, when you’re not working, do you ever go into town?”

 

“Not really, I’d rather read in here to be honest.”

 

“Oh. Well, do you…”

 

“Do I what, Betty?”

 

Betty looked up at him, “Do you, you know, have a girl?”

 

Jughead’s eyes widened, he was a bit startled by her question.

 

“Have a girl?”

 

“Yes, you know, someone your seeing? And I don’t know, kiss her, or whatever your allowed to do.”

 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Betty.”

 

“Well, and please don’t take this the wrong way Jug, but you said that your family lost everything right?”

 

“Yes,” Jughead sighed in admission, “My father used to be wealthier than Lord Cooper, believe it or not.”

 

“Well,” Betty thumbed the edge of the bed, “Doesn’t that mean your free to, you know.”

 

“Free? I’m not sure I understand, Betty.”

 

“You know,” Betty looked at him, “Free to love whomever you choose. Free to do whatever you want now.”

 

“Ah,” Jughead said, “You know, I hadn’t thought of it that way. I suppose it does.” He said quietly.

 

“So, do you have a girl then?”

 

“No," Jughead smiled and looked up at her, “No girl.”

 

“Do you every think about kissing girls?”

 

“Betty,” Jughead smirked and shifted on the bed.

 

“Sorry, it’s just, I have all of these questions and no one ever answers them for me because I’m ‘a lady.’”

 

“Questions?” Jughead implored. He shifted uncomfortably and look at her again.

 

“Yeah, about life and other things,” Betty whispered as she looked at him.

 

Jughead’s eyes widened as he looked down at the quilt on the bed.

 

“Jughead,” Betty said once again.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have you ever thought about…”

 

“What?”

 

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

 

“Betty. What a question. I mean, we were kids when we first met, so I certainly wouldn’t have entertained such thoughts then.”

 

“No,” Betty said, “I mean, _now_.”

 

Jughead swallowed, and before he could stop himself he said quietly, “Yes,” as his eyes flicked to her lips.

 

“You have?”

 

“Yes,” he said once more, not looking her in the face, “But you’re not mine to kiss, Elizabeth.”

 

Betty sat in silence for a minute as a tear spread down her cheek.

 

“Oh, Betty. Don’t cry.” Jughead scooted beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, “Please don’t be sad.”

 

“I am,” Betty said in earnest, “My mother promised me that I could marry for love and now I’m going to be stuck marrying whomever my uncle chooses for me. It’s horrible. I won’t share my body with someone I don’t love. He can’t make me, Jughead.”

 

Jughead was torn. He wanted to kiss her, but he knew that they could get into serious trouble. But at the same time, he really was worried about Betty being married off to someone she didn’t even know. Surely her uncle wouldn’t do that to her, would he? And her uncle had asked his opinion and he’d given it. Social status be damned he thought, if his dad hadn’t died of alcoholism (and a broken heart) he could practically have bought Betty as his own, not that he would have simply bought her, no, he would have courted her first, then spoiled her, and then loved her for the remainder of his days. But fate had ruined things for him. And without thinking on it any further, Jughead pulled Betty’s face towards his, tilting her chin so that they’re eyes could properly meet.

 

“ _Betty_.”

 

“What?”

 

His eyes flicked to her lips momentarily and when she did the same, he knew he could kiss her without being reprimanded. His lips covered hers for a minute, then he gently pulled them away to make sure she was okay. Betty parted her lips and looked at his again. Then, Jughead took her and pulled her into his lap so that he could kiss away her tears and his own insecurities. Their kisses were soft and wet, but soon turned heated. Betty began panting and fisting at his shirt as he kissed her, threading her hands through his hair and around his neck. Soon, his hands came up to tangle into her hair. They were still kissing an hour later when the rain had nearly stopped.

 

“Betty,” Jughead had to pull her away from him, “We should _really_ go inside.”

 

“No,” she said simply and kissed him again.

 

“Okay,” he smiled as her lips met his again.

 

Later, they sneak back into the estate and part ways when they approached their consecutive bedrooms. With no one nearby, Betty kissed Jughead goodnight and slipped quietly into her room, her chest and stomach completely aflame now.

 

 

 

 

 

After a few weeks passed, Betty wasn’t crying nearly as much. Although she still ached for her parents, she was happy she’d found some solace in being alone with Jughead whenever she could. Usually they snuck away to her room or kissed beneath the shadows of the old oak tree or kissed behind the tallest bookshelf in the library. They both took great care to make sure that no one was around them when they did kiss, each savoring the others mouth like it was a piece of forbidden fruit. And so, when her Uncle called her into his study a week later, Betty didn’t think anything of it. After all, it wasn’t as if he had reason to suspect that there was any hint of anything other than friendship between the two of them.

 

“Ah, Betty. Glad to see your looking better these days. The color has returned to your cheeks.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle,” Betty sat down and averted her gaze, knowing full well whose lips have brought her sad soul back to life.

 

“Listen, Betty, what I’m about to bring up probably isn’t what you want to talk about right now, but eventually we are going to have to discuss it.”

 

“Discuss what, uncle?”

 

“You eventually getting married, dear. I am your caretaker after all. And it will have to happen one day. Not now of course, not when your hearts mending, but someday soon, yes.”

 

“Oh,” Betty says quietly, dreading the day when she’ll have to marry someone she doesn’t love and worse – someone she doesn’t even know.”

 

“Do you have any eligible suitors in mind, Betty? I’m willing to work with you within reason of course.”

 

Jughead immediately comes to mind, but Betty would never say such a thing, knowing full well that he is no longer above her in station.

 

“No,” she sighs.

 

“Alright dear, well keep that in mind. We’ll talk about this later. In the meantime, I’m going to begin looking for an eligible suitor for you.”

 

“You are?” Betty says rather limply.

 

“Of course, dear, but you will be allowed to pick from the gentleman I select of course.”

 

“Alright, may I be excused uncle?”

 

“Yes Betty, you may.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Betty slipped out of his study quietly and leaned against the wall as the tears began to fall down her face. She wiped them off and let out a gentle sigh. Then, she decided that she needed to find Jughead.

..

Later that evening, Jughead removes his shirt and splashes his face with cold water. Once he’s dried his face he lays against his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He sighs as he closes his eyes. However, his eyes open again when he hears the sound of his bedroom door opening behind him.

 

“Betty?” Jughead sits up from the bed.

 

Betty wrings her hands together, not saying anything at first.

 

Jughead walks over to her and puts his hands against her cheek, “You can’t be in here, love.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You know why.”

 

“Jug,” Betty begins to cry, “My uncle said he’s going to start looking for suitors for me and I don’t want that.”

 

“Please don’t cry.”

 

“My friend,” Betty stumbles over her words, “She said getting married was horrible, she said it hurt and that she didn’t even like the guy and that he was old.”

 

“Betty,” Jughead smiles as he cradles her face in his hands, “So she was miserable because he was old?”

 

“It’s not funny, Jug,” Betty slaps him playfully, “How would you feel if you were forced to marry someone old?”

 

“Well, if I was still rich and a Lord, I would never have done such a thing.”

 

“No?”

 

“No, I would have bought myself a pretty young thing.”

 

“Jughead,” Betty begins to cry again, “That’s not funny.”

 

“Betty, I’m teasing you. Listen, I’m sure your uncle won’t make you marry anyone that you don’t want to marry.”

 

“Are you sure,” Betty rests her hands on Jughead’s arm.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“But I’m scared, Jughead.”

 

Jughead sighs and pulls her in for a kiss, “Don’t be scared,” He murmurs against her lips.

 

“I am,” Betty says beneath him.

 

Jughead begins kissing her, wrapping his arms around the length of her waist and pulling her closer.

 

“Jug,” Betty says as her eyes open, “Help me not to be scared, _please_ , I don’t want it to hurt.”

 

“Help you with what, Betty.”

 

“You know what,” Betty kisses him again and whispers against his lips, “ _Make love to me_.”

 

“Betty, we can’t.”

 

But Betty kisses him again.

 

Jughead returns her kisses with equal fervor and in a whisper, he says, “ _We shouldn’t_.”

 

“Please, Jug.”

 

“Betty, think about what you’re asking me,” Jughead says, “Imagine the impropriety, we could get into so much trouble. And Think of your reputation, Betty. If there was even a hint of this between us, it would ruin your eligibility for marriage.”

 

“I don’t care,” Betty whispers, “I want to be with you.”

 

“Betty.”

 

“I know you want me too, Jug,” Betty says in between kisses, “Say it, Jug.”

 

“I want you Betty,” Jughead kisses her again, “ _So badly_.”

 

“ _You can have me_.”

 

And with that, Jughead hoists her up and carries her over to his bed. He quickly runs and locks the door before he returns to her.

 

“Can I take this off,” Jughead whispers against her neck as he feels her nightgown and runs his fingers down her smooth, pale skin.

 

Betty nods. There’s a rush that hits her once her nightgown is off and his trousers are gone.

 

She touches his abs and feels his smooth white skin against her fingers, “Go slow,” Betty says, her hands trail downwards and Jughead’s eyes shut. Its top is wet and she touches it curiously.

 

When he opens them again, Betty is completely bare beneath him. He reaches out to touch her a little and shivers as his fingers come into contact with her bare skin.

 

“You are so beautiful, Betty.”

 

“Jug,” Betty cries softly, “I’m scared.”

 

“Don’t be. I’ve never done this before, Betty, but I would never hurt you,” Jughead whispers against her neck, “Nor would I ever let anything bad happen to you.”

 

“Will you kiss me as you make love to me?”

 

“Of course. Will you kiss me back?” Jughead smiles and pulls her beneath him, kissing her once more.

 

Betty nods.

 

“Betty, are you sure,” he whispers one last time against her lips.

 

“I’m sure.” And with that Jughead covers her lips with his as he pushes his pelvis towards hers.

 

And later, when all is said and done, after they’ve come together and pulled apart.

 

“Jug,” Betty whispers beneath his lips, “You’re crying.”

 

“You are too,” he smiles, and kisses her again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The aftermath. 
> 
> Author's Note: Please excuse the verb tense changes. When I went back to edit this chapter, certain tenses didn't create the same effect, so I kept them as is. 
> 
> Notes on Nobility: I did a little bit of research and pulled the rules regarding a nobles status (or loss thereof) from old English common law. As always, this story is just for fun. 
> 
> Please comment. Thanks.

 

 

> "So Jacob served seven years to get Rachel,
> 
> but they seemed like only a few days to him _because_ of his love for her."
> 
> **Genesis 29:20**

2.

Elizabeth and Forsythe slept through the night without interruption. As the morning dawned, light streamed through the only window in Forsythe’s room, hitting them both directly in the eyes. Forsythe woke up first to find the Lady Elizabeth sleeping against him. Her bare body was pressed firmly against his chest and her golden hair splayed beside their shared pillow. Forsythe pressed a kiss against Elizabeth’s forehead as she awoke, her eyes still drowsy from their long night together. When she finally opened her eyes to the morning, his blue eyes met hers with such a burst of warmth that it made her heart swell. With the way he was looking at her and the way they had been, it was as if there were no barriers between them anymore. Forsythe rubbed his hands down her arms with great care, as if touching her skin to make sure she was real. Then, he ran his fingers against her chest, caressing the skin lightly as he smiled at her and kissed her.

 

“Elizabeth,” Jughead murmured as he pressed kisses down her neck, “Did I hurt you? I’d _never_ want to hurt you...”

 

“No,” she replied softly, “I mean, hardly.”

 

“ _Betty_ ,” Jughead growled as he dipped his head beneath her chin, kissing her as he said, “You would tell me, right?”

 

“I would. I am fine.”

 

Jughead ran his fingers against her jaw and leaned in to kiss her as he said, “And since your fine, I’m going to spend the morning making love to you again.”

 

“But Jug,” Betty looked at him longingly and said, “We have to be practical about _this_. Think of the maids. Surely, they’ll be in here to check on us soon – that is, if they haven’t tried already. You don’t think they heard us, do you?” She said in a hushed tone, eyes suddenly lit with terror. For she was all too aware of the finality of the choice they had made together the night before. If they were ever discovered, her reputation would be ruined and her station disgraced.

 

“Me? Hardly. You, _however_ …”

 

Elizabeth blushed profusely upon hearing his words. She had been quite vocal, and considering it was her first time, she had all but expected it to be a lot worse. But it wasn’t that way at all, not with Jughead. It wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. She suddenly felt sorry for her dearest friend, who confided in her as they ate mint ice cream beneath the shade of a palm tree that her wedding night was ‘the absolute worst.’ Furthermore, her friend had said with some hesitation that ‘all women deserved to be warned of something so uncomfortable.’ Then she added with a sad, far off look in her eyes that she ‘wasn’t even in love with her husband,’ a wealthy Viscount from France.

 

But for Elizabeth, that was not the case in the slightest. She had found it to be gentle and warm, the softest comfort she needed during this difficult season. Her heart felt full now, and she was worried that she would no longer be able to care for anyone in the same way she was feeling about Jughead at this very moment. For Lady Elizabeth Cooper strongly suspected that she was falling in love with Forsythe Pendleton Jones (that is, if she wasn’t in love _already_ ). She just hadn’t allowed herself to indulge such feelings. For ‘a lady’ of her upbringing was forbidden from indulging in such fanciful notions, especially when those thoughts gave rise to unrequited love and worse - a forbidden romance, which was precisely what she and Forsythe were in the throes of at this very moment.

 

Jughead held her close again, caressing her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, “May I kiss you again, Elizabeth?”

 

“I’d like that very much,” she said as she shut her eyes and Jughead pressed his lips to hers.

 

When he pulled back to look at her, she whimpered at the loss of contact.

 

“Again, _please_.” She said in a whisper as Jughead smiled warmly above her.

 

And he happily complied.

 

 

 

 

 

“Lord Cooper?”

 

“Ah, good morning, Tom. Come in, please. Set the tea on my desk, will you?”

 

“Sir, yes sir.”

 

“Tom, you look as though something is bothering you. Out with it then, I’ll have my tea later.”

 

“Sir, its Lady Elizabeth. I haven’t seen her all morning and the maids were worried as it is our place to keep an eye on her and get her anything she requires, sir.”

 

“Oh Tom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to worry you or the rest of my staff. And as I am Lady Elizabeth’s primary guardian, that part of the worrying technically falls on my shoulders.”

 

“Well, sir, Tom scratched his head awkwardly, “I didn’t reveal anything to them sir as it’s not my place, but I did tell them not to bother Lady Elizabeth or Lord Forsythe in their respective rooms. But Siobhan, sir, she was rather worried this morning when she found Lady Elizabeth’s room bare and her bed still perfectly kept from the night before. She panicked sir, worried that she would be in trouble if you knew.”

 

“Ah, poor Siobhan. Tom, tell Siobhan not to worry and that if Lady Elizabeth isn’t in her room in the mornings, then she can simply check on her at another time.”

 

“Yes sir. Very good.”

 

“Is there anything else, Tom?”

 

“Not at all. Will you excuse me, Lord Cooper?”

 

“Of course, Tom. And please come to me with any further concerns.”

 

“Very good, sir. Enjoy your tea.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Jug?” Betty whispered against the side of his neck.

 

“Yes,” He said as his hand came up to cradle her neck, “What’s on your mind?”

 

“Do you think it’s safe to sneak back into my room? I would hate for one of the maids to see me and mention this indiscretion to my uncle. Mind you, they’d have every right to do so as I am not wed yet, but I want to avoid that if possible.”

 

Jughead sighed, “True enough. You should go.”

 

Elizabeth smiled and leaned into him for another kiss. Only this time, Jughead pulled her beneath him with force, hiking her legs around his waist so that her heels locked against his back.

 

“Jug,” Betty giggled, “You have to let me go before we get caught.”

 

“I know,” He said simply, “And I will.”

 

“So, what are you doing?”

 

Jughead sighed above her, “Looking at you so that I can remember how it was when you were mine.”

 

“Oh Jug,” Betty said, her tone laced with sadness as she began to cry.

 

“Don’t cry, Jughead murmured, his breath became choppy as he spoke, “Don’t be sad, _please_.”

 

“This, _I can’t_.”

 

“Betty,” Jughead pulled her face back to his, “In another time and place, you’d be _mine_. I know things are different now, but you have to know that.”

 

“I do,” Betty pushed her body up to kiss him, saying with the last breath she could muster, “I should go.”

 

“Alright – _wait_.”

 

“What?”

 

He pulled her close to him one last time, kissing her for good measure before she slipped out from beneath him.

 

Jughead watched with longing as Betty scooted off his mahogany bed, grabbed her silk nightgown, and pulled it over her head. Was it too much to say, he wondered? But it was the truth. At least he hadn’t said anything foolish like admitting that her loved her (and he _did_ , very much so). For then he would have been filled with a gut-wrenching angst because he knew that one-day, a dreadful day, Betty would no longer be _his_.

 

The thought of never being able to kiss Betty again put him in a melancholic mood, so he jumped out of bed quickly and went into the washroom. First, he splashed his face with water, finding that his brow was still matted with sweat from their lovemaking. He thought of her face as he made love to her, soft and delicate – vulnerable even. Then he wondered how he had looked to her as their skin touched for the first time. Had he looked vulnerable, he wondered? Because, he mused, that was the most exposed (and nervous) he had ever felt in his entire life.

 

After he dried his face with a linen towel, he grabbed a pair of clean trousers from the oak wardrobe next to his bed. He sighed and dressed for work languidly, hoping that a day of labor would distract him from the inevitable.

 

 

 

 

 

Elizabeth avoided Forsythe for a few days, purposefully shutting her door so that she didn’t catch a glimpse him going into his room in the evenings. She was still ruminating over what he said to her after their night alone together, writing her thoughts out with a calligraphy pen in her notebook. She pressed the ink onto the empty spaces, filling it with careful strokes, line by line. What did he mean, she wondered? But he had sounded so sure of himself, so possessive of her already, and truth be told she couldn’t stand the thought of another man ever touching her skin the way he had, for his touches were soft and filled with promise.

 

When he had first made love to her, Elizabeth observed his eyes and the way they locked with hers, it was almost as though he was marrying her with his body. In the days of old, she recalled from her lessons at boarding school, one simply had to take his future wife into a tent and consummate the relationship. Legally, that was all that was required for a valid marriage. Betty shuddered at the thought. And certainly, she and Jughead were now technically married in the biblical sense, but there was something more between them. And she was scared now because that something seemed a lot like _love_.

 

Meanwhile, as Forsythe went about his work on the estate, he was overcome by feelings of fear and trepidation. He tried to put those feelings out of his mind as he went about his daily tasks, and yet, they troubled him still. For days, he worried that Elizabeth was upset with him. He noticed that her door was locked shut in the evenings, which made his chest ache at night as he attempted to sleep, clenching his stomach beneath his comforter. He wondered if she regretted what they had done, the thought of which made him miserable, for he aptly considered her the to be the most important person in his life now. Once a former noble who had lost everything, having been left vagrant and penniless, he was seemingly rich again. And his heart, once rended by his unfortunate circumstances, had now been put back together by _her_.

 

The next day, Forsythe was determined to make amends. He would do whatever was required of him, get down on his knees, beg her for forgiveness – _anything_. He finally caught up with her when he caught her walking near the edge of the lake one cool evening.

 

“Betty?” Jughead ran toward her, “ _Elizabeth_ ,” he said once more, this time enunciating her formal name loudly. When she turned around his heart stopped for he saw that she was in tears.

 

“ _Betty_ ,” Jughead said softly grabbing her by the hand, “What on earth is the matter? I haven’t seen you for days now and I was so worried. Did I say or do something wrong? Are you upset about what happened between _us_? Tell me you don’t regret it, _please_.”

 

But she just shakes her head as her tears threaten to ruin their moment again.

 

“Wait, don’t cry,” Jughead said gently, eyes pleading with hers, “Can we talk?”

 

“Okay,” She whispered, “But not here.”

 

“Where, then?” Jughead grabbed both of her hands.

 

“Inside the old house.”

 

“You mean the groundkeepers old place? Now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Come on, we have to be quick to ensure that no one sees us.”

 

Soon, Jughead slid the door shut and went to sit with Betty on the bed in the corner, holding her hand as they both stared at the wooden flooring. Neither of them said anything until Jughead cleared his throat, effectively breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

 

Jughead looks over at her and says quietly, “Do you want to start?”

 

Elizabeth shakes her head. She turns to look at him and neither say a word as he leans in to kiss her. His lips weave over hers as her tears dissipate, now taken in the fury of his wanton kisses. His kisses make her feel whole again, knitting her back together in an instant. She crawls into his lap again, fisting his shirt in much the same way she had when they had first kissed in quiet stillness of the empty room.

 

“Jug,” Betty breaks the kiss only to whisper, “May I come to your bedroom again tonight?”

 

He nods solemnly and kisses her sensuously, savoring the feel of her lips against his once more.

 

That night, she sneaks across the hallway in her bare feet and slips quietly into Jughead’s room, taking great care so that no one notices her movements, nor her absence from her bedroom. She’d even wrinkled the bedsheets to make it look as though she slept in her room soundly the entire night (because in truth, she’s not planning on sleeping there at all tonight).

 

At the sound of her feet against the wooden floor, Forsythe sits up and smiles at her warmly. Now in her crêpe de chine nightgown, Elizabeth smiles and approaches him silently. When he holds his arms out to her, Elizabeth doesn’t hesitate, instead, she runs to him and throws her arms around his neck, kissing it once as she whispers in his ear, “I’m scared, Jug.”

 

“Betty,” Jughead pulls her head out from his neck to face her, “What are you frightened of?”

 

“It’s nothing,” Betty says assuredly, her voice trembling as she exhales.

 

But it doesn’t sound like nothing to him, so Jughead presses her for more, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m still grieving,” She says (and she is), but she doesn’t want to tell him how she really feels about him. There could be grave consequences for exposing her feelings like this.

 

Jughead looks at her like he’s marrying her with his eyes again, “Are you certain it’s not something else? Because you can confide in me, you know that. You’ll have me Elizabeth, _always_.”

 

“Jug,” She clears her throat, “Do you care for me?”

 

“ _Betty_.”

 

“Do you?” Betty shakes his shoulders with force, “Jug, tell me the truth.”

 

“Of course I care for you,” Jughead raises his voice a little, “How is that even a question, Betty. Ever since our night together, you’re all I think about it now.” Then he lowers his voice and says firmly with conviction, “You’re all I want, Betty.”

 

“Oh no,” Betty begins to cry, “Jug you can’t, _we can’t_ …it isn’t supposed to be this way.”

 

But Jughead pushes her down against the bed and covers her mouth with a bruising kiss, making quick work of her nightgown. After his trousers are off, he pulls her arms above her head and they continue kissing. And later, when Betty is very nearly there, Jughead mutters against her ear ‘let go, Betty’ and she does as a silent scream comes out of her mouth. When Jughead follows her into bliss, he screams too, saying, “ _I love you, Betty_ ” over and over again as she does the same.

 

And now Lady Elizabeth Cooper knows that they’re both done for, for Forsythe Pendleton Jones loves her. And alas, she loves him too, for the feeling of fullness that he brings her (and her body) overtakes her and now, she’s consumed by him.

 

Soon, their nightly lovemaking becomes a pattern, with Elizabeth sneaking into his room every night and not returning to her own bed until well past sunrise. Once, when Jughead was not in his bed and it was already late, Betty went in search of him and found him asleep against the back of the bookshelf at the end of the library. She giggled at the sight of him for he had clearly been doing research for one of her uncle’s enigmatic reports. His right hand, she noticed, was still gripping an old book entitled _Les Mysteries de Egypt_ and there were dark purple ink stains on his fingertips. There was also a tiny ink stain above his peach lips. Somehow, she mused, he must have wiped his face with his inky fingers as he slept.

 

She sat down and crawled beside him and nudged him gently as she whispered, “Wake up, Jug. Your bed is cold. Don’t make me return to it _alone_.”

 

Upon hearing her voice, Jughead grinned and shook himself awake. By then most of the house was asleep, so Jughead took the risk in kissing her there, pulling her onto his lap as their tongues and lips collided. His head pressed against the books behind them as they kissed, pushing them through the bookshelf where they eventually fell onto the other side of the floor with a resounding thud. Upon hearing the noise, Betty stopped kissing him and covered her mouth in panic, but Jughead said assuredly that ‘it’s fine’ and that she ‘need not worry,’ allaying all her fears again with a smile and a kiss.

 

They don’t go back to his room right away. Instead, Jughead grabbed the largest anthology of poems he could find and pulled her into his lap as he sat down against the cushion of the large velvet chair near the window. They settled in comfortably as Jughead began to read aloud whilst Betty listened. She watched the moonlight stream down against the garden and across the lake through the window, eyes dreamy at the sound of her lover’s voice reading the words off the pages. This night marks the first of many subsequent library dates for the two of them.

 

 

 

 

 

In his downtime, instead of reading alone, Jughead spends every waking moment he can with Betty. One day, after she presses her uncle for an outing, smiling with her eyes and relying on her captivating smile to convince him, he allows them to venture into town together. After they stroll leisurely through the town, they go to the only orchard in the county. And fortunately for them, its spacious and full of thick foliage, which conceals them perfectly from the outside world. Betty tosses her wooden basket aside, which is only half-full as she and Jughead kiss beneath the shade of the largest tree at the back of the orchard. She presses him for more, but he just smiles and mouths ‘another time,’ which makes her pout. Upon seeing that he’s disappointed her, he hums a secret in her ear, which makes her smile again as they continue to kiss the afternoon away.

 

And later, Betty finds that she’s tired again, so they nap beneath the shade of the tree. As the hour passes, an apple falls from the tree nearby, but neither of them hear it for they are asleep in one another’s arms, too content to worry about the outside world and all its hasty movements. When they leave the orchard just at dusk, Betty complains that the day has ‘ended far too soon.’ Jughead promises her that their day is far from over and mouths ‘later’ as he pulls her in for a kiss. With the entire night ahead of them, Betty blushes, grateful for the long nap they shared.

…

Later that night Lord Cooper ventured out from his room, requiring a pair of shears, which much to his chagrin the maid could not locate. He knew that Forsythe would have a pair. After all, he trimmed the rose bushes, a silly menial task that Lord Cooper gave him so that the young lad can at least know that he has purpose in the home. In fact, though, Jughead had already become somewhat of a gardener, green thumb and all. Every flower and tree that his hands tended to turn into a verdant display of pure unadulterated beauty. His acquired skill set was surprising and wonderful given that Forsythe had no prior knowledge of botany or horticulture before to his move to the estate. His family, much like Lord Cooper’s own home, had always had assistance with such things.

 

So, Lord Cooper takes a long walk to the far end of the hallway past his door, turning left then right again. He’s very nearly at the edge of Forsythe’s door when he hears gentle breaths, hushed sighs, and cooing voices that grow louder as he approaches the oak door. Just when Lord Cooper is about to rap his knuckles against the door, he forcefully stops himself as he hears (and mind you, it’s quite by accident):

_“Jug, you feel so good!”_

_“Oh Betty – I love you – so much.”_

_“I love you too, Jug – so much.”_

‘Oh my,’ Lord Cooper covers his mouth and chuckles as he walks away. At this rate, he’s worried about his niece and he knows he _needs_ to intervene, or soon she’s going to become a young mother and the formerly Lord Forsythe, a _very_ young father. But he isn’t upset in the slightest. After all, who better to marry his niece that his best friend’s son? But he would make them wait a little while longer, for he notes, they seem to be greatly enjoying each other’s company. And they haven’t been tainted the inevitable sadness that the station of marriage sometimes brings, an experience which Lord Cooper knows all too well given that he lost his own wife several years prior. He chuckled again at the thought of them together and returned to his room to read, deciding the shears will have to wait.

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, Lord Cooper called Forsythe into his study.

 

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

 

“Ah, yes, come in Forsythe. There’s a good lad, take a seat here.”

 

Jughead sits down contentedly and smiles, despite the deep purple circles under his eyes.

 

“I say Forsythe, are you alright? You look bone-tired, son.” And of course, Lord Cooper says this knowing full well whom he was up all night with.

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir, I was up late reading.”

 

“Ah, Lord Cooper says without giving away his position, “Anything worth mentioning? I’ve been looking for a good read myself, although I prefer something fictional this time around, which has nothing to do with my regular line of work.”

 

Jughead isn’t sure what to say, so he accidentally blurts out much to his chagrin, “It was a novel about a forbidden romance, I think.”

 

Lord Cooper raises his eyebrows, but managed to stay collected, “Ah yes, those are the best kind of romances, don’t you think?”

 

“Yes, sir, I mean – _sorry_ , I wouldn’t know, sir. Anyways, Jughead clears his throat, what can I do for you? Do you need me to work on that report?”

 

“I’m going to throw Betty a party next month, Forsythe, but nothing quite so formal as a debutante ball. Do you think she’d like that?”

 

“I’m not sure, sir. Possibly.”

 

“Very good, then. You may attend the party as well, Forsythe. I’ll have a suit made for you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Certainly. And I’ll need to you keep an eye out for any eligible young suitors whom you think Betty would like, you know, strong _and_ kind as you mentioned to me previously,” Lord Cooper smiled.

 

“Alright,” Jughead feigned a smile, but at the same time his heart sunk into his chest.

 

“May I be excused sir?

 

“Certainly, oh and Forsythe?”

 

“Yes sir?

 

“Why don’t you take the day off, you look like you could use it.”

 

“Thank you,” Jughead smiled warmly.

 

“Anyways, I have to get back to my studies. Say hi to Elizabeth for me _if_ you see her, will you?

 

“That I will do, thank you sir.”

 

Jughead returned to his room and stepped inside quietly locking the door behind them. Meanwhile, Betty was still asleep in his bed, completely nude beneath his comforter. Jughead walked quietly over to where she was sleeping and sat beside her, running his hands through her hair. He bent down and pressed a kiss against her forehead as he whispered, “Even in sleep, you still exude grace and beauty.”

 

Betty’s eyelids fluttered open. She smiled at his ministrations and consequently asked, “Tell me, Jug, what is the time?”

 

“Half past noon, I think,” His lips curled into a smile, “You’ve been sleeping all day, Aurora. It seems,” Jughead leaned down and murmured against her ear, “That you’ve come under some sort of enchantment.”

 

Betty sat up, “Oh no, are we going to be in trouble?”

 

“No,” he says assuredly.

 

“I should bathe,” Betty said quietly, covering herself modestly with his bedsheet.

 

“We both should, and in one swoop, Jughead pulled Betty into his arms, which caused her to giggle and beat at his chest playfully, “Where are you taking me, Forsythe? Put me down this instant,” she insisted, “I’m a _lady_.”

 

But Jughead had other plans - _Lady or otherwise_.

 

“ _We_ are going to take a very long, hot bathe, Elizabeth. Your uncle has given me the day off.”

 

“We?” Betty’s said as her arms encircled his neck.

 

“Do you know of another pronoun?” Jughead said as he kissed her whilst rubbing the pads of his fingers down her long, blonde locks.

 

“Yes,” Betty whispered against his lips, “But I like this one so much better.”

 

Jughead grins and carries her into the washroom, setting her onto the single chair near the window. He pulls his linen shirt off and turns on the faucet to the washtub. Once the water becomes warm enough, he pulls off his trousers and sits down so that his back is against the white basin. Then, he motions for Betty to come forward, taking her hand and pulling her into the tub with him so that her back sits comfortably against his. Betty sighs as she feels Jughead’s hands come around her waist. Soon, he tucks her hair around her front and plants a kiss against her back before he grabs the lavender soap bar beside the tub to wash her back.

 

“Jug,” Betty asks as she turns around, “Can we stay here for a while? I like it when you hold me.”

 

Of course, he smiles, thinking of how he loves it when she presses herself firmly against him. For he loves to hold her close, too.

 

Betty turns around again and dips her head in the water so that she’s facing the ceiling. She stares at the tiled design on the rafter and shuts her eyes. Then, Jughead dips his head lower so that he can kiss her while her head bobs against the warm stream. She smiles against his mouth as it covers her lips.

 

 

 

 

 

Later that day, Lord Cooper watched approvingly as Forsythe read to Elizabeth beneath the old oak tree, her head resting against his chest with one arm curled around his waist. They were, he mused, the very picture of an idyllic life. He felt a pang of sadness then, not for them, no, but for himself. For it was underneath that aged sapling that he used to read to his deceased wife Anabelle on a quiet Sunday after church. He would just read and read long after she’d fallen asleep against him. And he never took those little moments for granted, no not once, for he knew that if he had been any older, he likely would never have met her at the Harvest Festival so many years prior.

 

He had only been allowed to attend the festival because he was too young to take up arms in the war. Both of his older brothers had died in the war, too, with one of them never getting the opportunity to meet his only daughter. And that was why Lord Cooper would never fault Forsythe for claiming Elizabeth as his own. Time was much too precious to him, but family and love were so much more. He knew he was a bit of an unusual sort for the time he lived in, what with the societal mores of the day being so strict. And that was fine, certainly, but he would allow his niece to marry for love. He had decided to let her choose her own destiny, for in his heart he was very much a bucolic, idealizing the soft, pleasant life that the countryside had to offer. And allowing Elizabeth to be happy, he reasoned, would be his last gift to her beloved mother, Alice.

 

 

 

 

 

“Jug?”

 

“Hmm,” Jughead looked down at her lovingly and snapped the book shut.

 

“Can we take a nap?”

 

“I don’t see why you’re asking for my permission. After all, you’ve been napping beneath me this entire time.”

 

“I was, true enough, and I will damn well nap whenever I please.”

 

“Oh, is that so?”

 

“It is.”

 

“Yes, m’lady,” Jughead smirked as Betty slapped him playfully.

 

“Can we sleep in the old brown house, Jug? I really do need a nap. I’m feeling more tired than I usually do these days.”

 

Jughead sat up and grabbed her hand, “Come on, dear.”

 

Once Jughead shut the heavy door behind them, Betty proceeded to walk straight to the bed in the corner. She plopped down with ease, with Jughead following close behind her. He scooted beside her and proceeded to pull her into him. Betty sighed as Jughead tucked her head beneath his chin. For never in her life had she felt this content and she wasn’t about to waste it as she fell asleep.

 

When she awakens later, she discovers that Jughead is asleep beside her, so she shakes him awake playfully.

 

“What,” He says, grinning when he sees her laughing above him.

 

“It seems I wasn’t the only one who needed a nap.”

 

“True enough,” he concedes, “But someone keeps me up every night. I’ve practically memorized the songs of both the larks and the nightingales,” He quips.

 

Betty blushes profusely. For though she’d always allowed him to lead (and she’s _very_ happy to comply with being any way he wants her), she had become just as possessive of him.

 

“Shall we go inside now?”

 

“No,” he says, “I want to take a walk around the garden with you.”

 

After they leave the privacy of the old brown house, Elizabeth links her arms in his as they pass by verbena plants and then a bed of marigolds. She pauses only after they happen upon a bed of roses.

 

“Pick one for me?”

 

“Too afraid you’ll cut yourself again?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Very well, then,” Jughead fishes out a pocket knife from his trousers and tucks it into her palm, “Prove it.”

 

Betty makes quick work of the small knife, cutting a delicate rose and trimming off the two tiny thorns near its center. When she’s done she says rather proudly, “Now hold still and close your eyes.”

 

Jughead complies as Betty tucks the rose beneath his ear.

 

He opens them again, batting his eyelashes at her, which throws her into a fit of laughter.

 

“You’re turn,” Jughead says, taking the rose from his ear and tucking it behind hers. “So beautiful,” he murmurs as he pulls her in for a long kiss.

 

Meanwhile, the entire facetious exchange is seen by Lord Cooper from the second story window. He guffaws and smiles approvingly. Chuckling to himself and liking that the pair as so at ease with one another. From then on, whenever his niece requested time with Forsythe, whether to watch him work or accompany him on his errands in town, he assented without hesitation.

 

 

 

 

 

Another month passed easily. Elizabeth and Forsythe continued to make love in his bed nearly every night, screaming whispers in one another’s ears. At one point, they had been careless and forgotten to lock the door to his bedroom and woke up to a tray full of food against the desk near the backdrop of the single curtain in his room. Jughead half wondered why Lord Cooper hadn’t called him into the study now to reprimand him or _worse_ , for he knew that at least one of the servants had seen them together since he had awoken that morning completely naked with Betty in much the same state as she lay next to him sleeping. When Betty woke up she cried when she saw the tray of food, nearly certain that things would be over for the both of them. But Jughead soothed her with his gentle touches, rubbing circles against her skin and nothing further ever came of the incident. Perhaps, Jughead wondered, the servant had decided that it was not his or her place to say anything. At least that was what he told himself as he made love to her once more, willing her to stop crying.

 

While mulling about the garden, Jughead decides he needs to do something to allay her fears. Ever the budding horticulturalist (that is, when he’s _not_ nose deep in a book on archeology), he instantly decides on plants of some kind. After trimming some flowers in Lord Cooper’s slated metal greenhouse, Jughead decided to make her a surprise with some dried lavender stems the maids had hung in the sun to dry. He carefully selects the longest sprigs he can find. Then, with a blue ribbon stolen from the washroom, he cuts it into three pieces and weaves a loose, long braid. Once that’s completed, he carefully weaves the lavender sprig throughout each loop and ties the end off. Satisfied with his handiwork he smiles and places his creation aside, grabbing a watering pale and finishing his labor for the day. When he sits down for a break, he grabs his old notes on Egyptian dynastic periods, rereading them as he ties together a bundle of dried lavender, biting the end of the string with his teeth.

 

The very same evening, after the incident, Jughead sneaks into Betty’s bedroom with the present he made for her in the afternoon. Seeing the smirk on his face, she sits up instantly, tossing her book of hand-painted psalms aside.

 

He stands at the foot of her bed and places the lavender crown atop her head, “For you, Lady Ophelia.”

 

Betty giggles in response, rephrasing Hamlet so that the lines are directed at him instead, “My Lord, you hath made many tenders of affections towards me today.”

 

“And here my Lady, is another,” Jughead holds up the sprig of dried lavender, “You can hang this next to your bed, it will soothe you as you sleep.”

 

“Oh,” Betty snatches the bundle excitedly, “Where did you learn how to do this, Jug?”

 

“My mother,” Jughead said, “She always smelt of lavender and lilacs. And now you will too.”

 

“But Jug,” Betty says questioningly, “Shouldn’t I hang this next to your bed. It’s my resting place most nights anyways.”

 

“True enough,” he says as Betty wraps her arms around him, “I’ll make another for _our_ bed,” he murmurs against her lips. He pulls away from her to look at her again. And as they’re eyes lock, everything fades away in that mere moment, but to them it seems like their souls are reconnecting again, thinking not of what is, but of what _could_ be.

 

 

 

 

 

The night of Elizabeth’s not-quite-debutante party, Jughead, wearing a pressed black suit, stayed in the shadows of the Egyptian room, finding solace beneath the figures of the queer antiques that surrounded him. He was also hiding from Betty and the party’s attendees because, while Lord Cooper had asked him to keep an eye out for an eligible suitor, he knew that he could never be one of them.

 

“Jug?”

 

He turned around to find Betty in a silver gown with a tight bodice and lace trim around its edges. It’s splendid and wonderful and hugs _everything_ (and he wants to rip it off her and make love to her against the wall).

 

“There you are, Jug. I’ve been looking all over for you. Why are you in here?”

 

“No reason,” Jughead lied.

 

Betty watched as his black hair fell into his eyes. She stood beside him and tucked the hair behind his ear and grabbed his hands.

 

“Jug, you look sad. Why?”

 

Jughead pretended to kick a sphinx’s base and let out an exasperated huff, “Because, Betty, your uncle is looking for a suitor for you at this impromptu gathering and its killing me.”

 

“Jug,” Betty pressed her hand against his cheek, “I’ll just tell him that I don’t like any of the men here. It’s a non-issue, truly.”

 

Jughead pushed her forcefully against the wall beside him, taking great care to not allow her head to hit the wall though as he cradled it in his hands protectively. He trailed his hands down her waist as he kissed her neck, saying, “But it is a big deal, Betty,” he whispered as his lips pressed against her delicate skin, “Because _your mine_ , you’ll always be _mine_.”

 

“I’m yours,” Betty cried aloud, “Always, Jug.” Betty began to cry a little as she placed kisses all over his face.

 

Jughead kissed her back feverishly, “I love you _so_ much, Elizabeth.”

 

“I have to go,” Betty whispered in between his kisses, “My uncle, he’s expecting me.”

 

“Don’t go.”

 

“I have to,” But then Betty leaned in close to his ear, “But I’m yours always and I’ll remind you of that tonight when I’m in _your_ bed. _I love you_ ,” She whispered.

 

Jughead straightened up as Betty fixed her gown and glided out of the room. Before leaving, though, she turned to smile at him before disappearing from the room.

 

But Mere seconds later, Jughead heard Betty’s voice take on a pleasant note as she chirped, “Oh, hi Archibald. I’m fine, thanks. _Forsythe_? Yes, he’s in _there_.”

 

Jughead turned around and grinned when he saw his old companion from boarding school standing in the doorway.

 

“It’s been a long time, Forsythe.” Archibald Andrews clasped his hand, “The boys at school miss your semantics, man. How are you?”

 

“Surviving,” Jughead sighed, “I can’t complain, how are you?”

 

“Doing well,” I was so sad to hear about your family, Forsythe. I’m sure my old man would have done the same thing if my mother had been dealt that hand. No one faults him Jug, surely you know that?”

 

“I appreciate that.”

 

“But hey, Archibald clapped his back, you might be penniless, but at least you still get to retain your title man. That’s got to count for something, right? And I’m sure Lord Cooper enjoys having someone from such an esteemed family live here anyways. He’s a crazy old codger, no?”

 

“What did you say?” Jughead looked up at Archibald, a mix of confusion and consternation mixed across his expression.

 

“Your title, _Lord_ Forsythe. Come on, did you not pay any attention during that property lecture the dean at West Point forced us to attend? Jug, I’m shocked, school was always your thing man, not skirt chasing or playing ball.”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

 

Archibald drew a pretend line across his forehead and smiled, “If only the boys could see me now. I cannot believe I’m about to school the great Forsythe Pendelton Jones, the recipient of the second highest marks in school, but here we are” he continued, “Jug, no matter how poor one becomes, he or she never loses their noble status. In fact, I’m pretty sure only the king himself can revoke that and he’d have to find a good reason because most of those men are his own distant cousins,” Archibald laughed.

 

But the words were ringing in his ears, echoing repeatedly.

 

“Did you hear me, Jug?”

 

“Archibald, Jughead looked at him with his eyes blown wide open, “You’re sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure what are you daft, man? You must have slept through that entire lecture, which is ridiculous considering how wealthy your family was, landed gentry and all manner of titles held by the Jones’s. You might have greatly benefitted by learned a thing or two about how property and contracts work.”

 

Jughead’s heart swelled in his chest, “Wait, Archie, you’re not here to court Lady Elizabeth, are you?”

 

“Heavens no. Archibald lowered his voice, “I have a girl, Jug. Mother forced me to come here, so I’m doing it to keep her off my back for now.”

 

“More like you’ve always _had_ girls.”

 

“Jug,”

 

‘What? Your nickname as school was _the fox_.”

 

“That stupid moniker, only because of my red hair. Anyways, Forsythe, I had better go,” Archibald clapped his shoulder again, “But it was great to see you.”

 

When Archibald left the room, Jughead stepped out of the Egyptian room and paced the corridor. If he was right, then that meant that he had a chance now to marry Betty. When the party was over, he would ask Lord Forsythe the question at great risk to himself. He had to.

 

Jughead made his way back to his room and slipped quietly inside. He was surprised to find Betty there, already undressed and lying beneath his covers.

 

“Betty,” Jughead smiled, “What are you doing here? That was your party after all.”

 

“It’s not a party without you, Jug. Now make love to me. “Oh, and Jug,” Betty added sweetly, but her words were anything but, “Don’t be gentle with me this time.”

 

In compliance, Jughead grinned wickedly and began shedding his clothing piece by piece. Then, he grabbed her and pulled her beneath him; she laughed as his hands pulled her legs around his waist, but soon the laughter turned into panting and then, there was no more talking. Once Betty fell asleep, Jughead got dressed again and went to see if Lord Cooper was in his study. Most of the previous noises of merriment in the house had died down, so Jughead assumed that the party had ended.

 

Jughead purposefully made extra noise against the study door so Lord Cooper would hear him straightaway.

 

“Ah, Forsythe, just the person I wanted to see in. Come in. I want to hear your thoughts about the men at the party.”

 

“I didn’t go sir, well, didn’t attend most of it anyways.”

 

“And why on earth not, Forsythe?”

 

“Sir, Jughead choked, “Sir, I need to know something if I may. Tell me, sir…”

 

Lord Cooper looked up at him expectantly.

 

“Is it true that no matter how poor a noble may become, the noble still retains his status.” He spat, almost breathless.

 

A slow, sneaky smile spread across Lord Cooper’s face, “Why yes, _Lord_ Forsythe, it is.”

 

“What? Jughead gasped.

 

“Forsythe, I thought you knew that my boy. And when you started going by _just_ ‘Forsythe’ and dropped the title from your name, I did too.”

 

“No,” he said incredulously, No, I did not.”

 

“Well,” Lord Cooper chuckled, “You seem like a man on a mission. Tell me Forsythe, what is this _really_ about?

 

“Can I have Betty, sir?” He said, the words spilled out almost immediately.

 

Lord Cooper raised his eyebrows, attempting to feign shock as he said, “Can you _have_ Betty? Forsythe, I already know that you’ve _had_ Betty. But that’s not really what you’re asking me, is it?”

 

But of course, _he knows_ , Jughead thought. He’s probably _known_ for months now.

 

“No, sir.” Jughead’s face turned red as he said more courageously this time, “Can I marry her, sir?”

 

“Ah, Lord Cooper chuckled. “And there it is. Can you _marry_ my niece?”

 

“Yes sir. _I love her_. Oh god, please don’t me angry with me, sir.”

 

Lord Cooper stood up and walked towards Jughead, placing his hand firmly against his shoulder, “And does she feel the same, Forsythe?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Forsythe, do you remember the old story from Genesis, the one where Jacob married Rachel and Leah?”

 

“Yes sir, I do. Wait, sir, you’re not going to sentence me to seven years of hard labor for Lady Elizabeth, are you? Or does she have an older sister that I don’t know about?”

 

“No,” Lord Cooper chuckled, for he was greatly amused by his questions, “Forsythe, you’re like a son to me. And frankly, despite what happened with your dear father, I cannot think of anyone with whom I’d rather my niece be married to. Yes, you may have Betty, _but_ …”

 

Jughead’s eyes widened in disbelief, still hanging on his every word.

 

“ _But_ , there’s a catch.”

 

“Anything, sir,” Jughead felt tears sting his eyes.

 

“I need you to do something for me. I’m old and my bones ache, Forsythe, which isn’t good considering my line of work. I was supposed to be on a train tonight, but alas my gout is flaring up again.”

 

“Well, what is it?”

 

“Forsythe, I need you to go to Egypt in my stead. You’d be gone for seven months, hence my reference to the biblical story earlier.”

“Sir?”

 

“I need you to do some work for me there. Don’t worry, I’ll give you whatever currency you need to travel with and extra. You may spend freely there and see what you wish, provided that you get the work done that I need completed.”

 

“But sir, seven months?” Jughead looked at him incredulously.

 

“If you do this Forsythe, you can marry Elizabeth and take over my estate when I’m gone. You may have her dowry, which is substantial _and_ for good measure I’ll even pay for the wedding.”

 

“But sir, wouldn’t that hurt Betty what with me being gone for so long? She’s already lost so much, sir. She isn’t quite past her grief yet.”

 

“You needn’t worry about her, Forsythe. Betty is safe here with me. I can assure you that she will be well cared for.”

 

“ _But sir_.”

 

“That’s the deal, Forsythe. And I think it’s a good one.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Jughead said without hesitation, “But when would I leave sir?”

 

“Half past the hour, Forsythe. You’ll take the train in town and sail from there to Greece first. Then, you’ll travel to Morocco, and finally, Egypt.”

 

“My god, Lord Cooper, that’s only twenty minutes from now.”

 

“I know. So, go on then, Forsythe. Pack your bags and kiss your future bride goodbye. Giza awaits.”

 

Jughead didn’t need to be told twice. He was worried that if he didn’t act now, Lord Cooper might change his mind. (And frankly, he’d be crazy _not_ to). And so, he manages to say again with some reservation in his voice, “Yes Lord Cooper, _I’ll do it_.”

 

“Very good, Lord Forsythe. Well, what are you waiting for, get going then lad.”

 

 

 

 

 

Jughead ran down the hallway and back into his room where Lady Elizabeth was sound asleep, completely sated from their love making. He was so happy in that moment as he ran over to her and crouched by the bedside to tell her that not only was he still titled, but that her uncle had just granted him permission to marry her.

 

“ _Betty_ ,” Jughead shook her awake, “Betty, _wake up_!”

 

But she just sleeps, like Aurora in winter, waking for no man – not even her _prince_.

 

“ _BETTY_.” Jughead cried again.

 

He tried once more, shaking her with more force, but he began to tear up when she wouldn’t wake from her slumber. He didn’t want her to think he had left her without saying goodbye, but in this instance, time was _not_ on his side. Instead, he cried a little when she wouldn’t wake and kissed her on the lips.

 

“Jug,” Betty said, her eyes opened for only a second before she went back to sleep.

 

“Goodbye, Betty,” Jughead whispered, “I love you and when I return you and I can be together.”

 

“Mmm,” Betty said, eyes still closed, “That’s a nice dream, Jug,” Then she rolled over and whispered in her sleep, “I love you too.”

 

It was all the time he had as he packed the last of his things and left, kissing her forehead one last time before grabbing his suitcase. He glanced up at her window as he boarded the carriage outside, reminding himself that in just seven months, she would he his forever.

 

 

 

 

 

When Elizabeth awoke the next morning, she looked around and noticed that some of Jughead’s things were missing. His grey cap, which he only took off during their lovemaking, was no longer on his nightstand. She found that to be very curious. Then, she sat up, vaguely remembering something from the night before. In a haze she had seen Jughead bent over her, eyes watering as he smiled and ran a finger down her cheeks. To her horror, she remembered what he had said, something akin to ‘I love you’ and ‘ _goodbye_.’ Betty began to shake. She stood up and looked around the room and began yelling his name repeatedly.

 

“Jughead? Are you there? _Jughead_!”

 

When her cries of anguish elicited no response, she went into her room across the hallway, hoping that he had gone in there for some reason. _Nothing._ Then, she ran down the hallway to the library, noting that her uncle’s study was vacant as she passed by several rooms. When she approached the entrance of the library, she found it dark and bleary save for the single lit candle in the corner of the window. When she didn’t find him there she ran outside, still in her nightgown and flung open the door to the old brown house. _Empty._ And it was then that she crumbled to a heap on the floor as she began to cry as she realized that Jughead was no longer at the estate. He had left her. And then a wave of great anguish swept over her, for she knew that Jughead would never leave her willingly, no, not when he said point blank to her that she was his and would _always_ be his. Her Uncle, she reasoned, had found out about them and sent him away.

 

An ache twisted within the deep recesses of Lady Elizabeth’s chest and she wondered then, if there was more than one way to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Thoughts on what might happen next? Do you still like Lord Cooper or are you angry with him? 
> 
> Please comment. Thanks.


End file.
